


Surrender The Body

by creepy_crawly



Series: Surrender (Bleach) [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Break Up, Daddy Issues, M/M, Series, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-06
Updated: 2008-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-31 18:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepy_crawly/pseuds/creepy_crawly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ishida hates Shinigami.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrender The Body

**Author's Note:**

> This will the first in a three-part series, the second of which is currently suffering through betaing. _Surrender The Body_ will be followed by _Surrender The Mind_ and finally _Surrender The Soul_. Might take a while to get there.

**Title:** Surrender The Body  
 **Author:** [](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/profile)[**creepy_crawly**](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Pairing:** Um. ByakuyaxIshida *cough cough*  
 **Warnings:** Lol. Sex. Like that’s a warning of any variety.  
 **Disclaimer:** Not mine, unfortunately.  
 **Author’s Note:** This will the first in a three-part series, the second of which is currently suffering through betaing. _Surrender The Body_ will be followed by _Surrender The Mind_ and finally _Surrender The Soul_. Might take a while to get there.  
 **Summary:** Ishida hates Shinigami.

“I _hate_ Shinigami!” Ishida growled. His voice had fallen to a deep, rough snarl, and his muscles were tense, straining at his bonds. His pupils were huge in his dark eyes, and his pale cheeks were lit with bright spots of angry red. He was ready for a fight.

Byakuya smirked, shifting his grip on the teen’s wrist to one hand. “Not all of us,” he laughed, cupping his heavy erection in his newly-freed hand. “This doesn’t _feel_ like hate…”

Shuddering, Ishida closed his eyes and bit down on his lip. Byakuya began to rub him through the fabric of his pants, though, and a low, breathy moan escaped him. Ishida Uryuu may have _hated_ Shinigami, but he did love the way Byakuya made him feel. The taichou gave him everything he asked for and more. Even now, he wasn’t quite sure how, exactly, their arrangement had begun. All he knew was that he didn’t want it to end, not ever.

Maybe he was an addict, but he loved the way the reserved taichou touched him. He loved the way his hands moved over him, the way their lips pressed together, the way Byakuya need only touch him to make him arch this way and that. The man had total control over him, and they both knew it. Still, Ishida couldn’t find it in him to dislike it.

“Good,” Byakuya breathed, watching the fight flow out of the young man’s muscles. Releasing the erection tenting Ishida’s pants, he smoothed a hand up and down his pale, narrow chest. “Will you behave if I release you?”

“Yes,” Ishida panted. “Yes…Taichou…”

Byakuya smirked at him. He could only get the Quincy to call him by his proper Shinigami title by tipping him into sub-space first, but it was worth the fighting and the temper-tantrums. With a couple of deft finger-flicks—each of which brushed Ishida’s hyper-sensitive skin, making him tremble—he released the binding. Byakuya caught the teen as he fell, gasping, from the wall.

For a moment, his commanding mask slipped, revealing something more tender, something sweeter, something neither of them dared recognize. “You’re okay,” he whispered in one pale ear. “I’ve got you. Breathe.”

Slowly, Ishida drew a deep, shuddering breath. With fresh air filling his lungs, he wobbled upright, supporting himself on shaky legs. “Taichou…”

“Bed, Quincy,” Byakuya ordered, sliding back into his dominating personality. He waited impatiently for the teen to stumble to the article of furniture in question, watching as he fell to the futon. His shirt had been removed before Byakuya had bound him to the wall, and a red flush—similar to the one darkening his cheeks—glowed, rosy, on his chest. His chest heaved, rising and falling in rhythm with his breathing. His eyes were hazy, pupils blown huge with lust, dark pits in a pale face.

He was gorgeous.

“Remain still, Quincy,” Byakuya ordered. Taking his time, he stalked over beside the boy and then knelt. After a long moment watching him breathe and try not to move, he reached out and set to work on his pants. He had them removed quickly, tossing them carefully in the direction the shirt had gone. His task done, he sat back on his heels and looked over the teen.

Ishida Uryuu was no classic beauty, that much was sure. He was too thin, too pointy, and too much a jumble of features. Byakuya fancied that he looked like a male version of Snow White, from that story Rukia had loved to read as a child. Skin as white as snow, hair as dark as ink, eyes as blue as the oceans, lips as red as blood…

Scars trailed here and there over the pale skin, more often than not following the line of the underlying muscles. Byakuya could read his lover’s fights from his body, could take one look and tell he fought with the elegance and grace that all Quincy instinctively had, forcing blade and fang to curve where they wanted them. One hand looked vaguely scarred; in the right light, it looked burned. Byakuya knew that was the hand that had once worn the gauntlet, just as he knew that the cold could make the bones in it ache with the most terrible pains.

Being the last Quincy had not been kind to Uryuu, he reflected, staring at the silver cross on its chain against his chest, over the dark star. His fingers were permanently burned from handling raw reiatsu, calloused from the way he used it. He was thin and fragile, every nutrient going to maintaining the constant use of spiritual power he was powerless to stop. Fights had left their marks on him in a way that none of his friends had yet experienced; despite his youth, he dressed like an old soldier, frightened of his own body.

And still he came to Byakuya, needing the fight, and only trusting the taichou to give it to him properly.

“Spread your legs, little Quincy,” Byakuya breathed. “And tell me that you want this.”

Ishida did not hesitate to do as told. He parted his legs slowly, his flush darkening, lips parting with a little nervous cry. “I…I want this,” he stammered, his eyes falling closed. “I want this. Please, Taichou!”

“You’re a good little Quincy,” the older Shinigami crooned, stroking his hot, sweaty face with one smooth palm. “So good to do as you’re ordered.”

Beneath his touch, Ishida whimpered.

For a long, long moment, Byakuya watched him. Ishida’s chest, thin, narrow, scarred, rose and fell quickly, a pale flush glowing against his porcelain skin. His fingers trembled slightly, fidgeting with the smooth Egyptian cotton of his sheets. His toes curled, the most recent scar (from fighting a Hollow and dodging Ichigo all at the same time) shimmering, opalescent in the moonlight. Unohana’s healing creams, Byakuya knew, tended to do that to skin for several days.

“Please,” Ishida whimpered, his voice broken and soft, eyes closed.

Byakuya stroked his face gently once more, then rose to his feet. He had shed his captain’s jacket some time ago, but other than that, was still fully clothed. He took his time disrobing. He always did. At first, he had said it was to teach Ishida patience. After that, they both knew it was really to give the boy time to relax.

Carefully folding his clothes, Byakuya lay Senbonzakura across the stacked fabric. It was his show of trust, removing the blade in the first place, but it still stayed well within easy reach. Ishida might have been permanently armed, but after the first time a Hollow came near while they were… _involved_ …Byakuya had made a point of being able to reach Senbonzakura.

Feeling more than seeing Byakuya kneeling beside him on the futon, Ishida spread his legs just a little further. As was their deal, he had prepared himself that afternoon. That way, Byakuya could just take him without worrying about actually hurting him. For all their antagonism, neither one could bring himself to actively injure the other anymore. Letting his eyes fall shut, Ishida waited impatiently for the first thrust.

When Byakuya thrust in sharply, Ishida’s eyes flew open, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. His jaw sagged open, a shivery little moan escaping him. His fingers tightened in the sheets, toes curling against the balls of his feet.

Moaning low in his chest, Byakuya hovered over him, watching the Quincy. Ishida had the best responses he had ever encountered, he was certain of it. As cold, quiet, and restrained as the teenager was during the day, when he and Byakuya were together, the famed Quincy pride crumbled to nothingness beneath the Shinigami’s fingertips.

“P-p-please…” Ishida whimpered, his spine curling slightly. “T-tai-taichou!”

“Little Quincy,” Byakuya purred soothingly, though his voice was rough around the edges, as well. He thrust in sharply. Ishida adjusted quickly. He always had, though his body remained as tight as ever. Besides, as Ishida had explained more than once, he was in this partly for the pain. If he just wanted release, well, he had hands, now, didn’t he?

Both men ignored the fact that there was more between them than just a need to get off and a need to be dominated or to dominate.

It said a lot about the world, really, that they connected better through their play-fights and their anger than through anything else. Byakuya was too cold, too restrained, too powerful in his society to show something like _need_. Ishida, in turn, was too powerful to get what he needed—a turn-around on that power, a loss of control. Much as he hated it, it was what he needed, what he wanted…and he knew it.

But because of that power, Ishida couldn’t just _surrender_.

No, he had to be fought into submission. And who better for such a task than one Kuchiki Byakuya?

“God!” Ishida whined suddenly, his entire body arching. His fingers clenched in the bedding, knuckles whitening with the force of his grip. Reiatsu rippled over the tattoo-like scar on his chest.

Byakuya just smirked and continued to thrust into him. When Ishida’s Quincy powers started reacting, when his reiatsu suddenly surged forth, out of his control, Byakuya knew he was bringing the teen close. He knew his own was surging in reaction, spirit trying desperately to merge with the Quincy’s. Senbonzakura moaned, struggling against the restraints Byakuya kept him under, desperate to feel the Quincy-power roiling through the room.

For Shinigami, sex was another form of Bankai, really.

“Fuck…!” Ishida moaned. “Taichou…close…!”

“Come for me, little Quincy,” Byakuya panted. Taking a deep breath, he brought down his control over Senbonzakura. Eagerly, the Zanpakutou roared forward, trickling over Ishida’s skin in rivulets of power.

Ishida gasped wordlessly, feeling his lover’s reiatsu storm over his skin. Arching his back and squeezing his eyes shut, he let himself go, a wordless scream escaping into Byakuya’s mouth.

\----

“Relax, Uryuu,” Byakuya murmured, stroking his hip gently. “You’ve got school tomorrow.”

Curled against his body, Ishida raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any idea how _wrong_ that sounds?” he asked sardonically.

“I’ve got an idea, yes,” Byakuya agreed dryly. Tilting his head, he kissed the rapidly-darkening mark that was blooming on the teen’s shoulder. “But I don’t mind.”

Ishida snorted softly, resisting the urge to fall asleep. Safe as he felt with Byakuya…

“Sleep,” Byakuya said firmly, feeling the exhaustion seeping into the edges of his reiatsu. “Senbonzakura’s awake enough for the two of us.”

With his back to the captain’s chest, Ishida smiled softly. It was nice to know that his lover’s Zanpakutou was on guard, even when they weren’t. It helped him to give into the exhaustion that always followed sex with Byakuya. Comforted by the thought of being permitted to let go, if even just for the night, he closed his eyes and snuggled closer.

\----

_Byakuya,_ Senbonzakura murmured, wariness beginning to ripple along their bond. _Someone’s coming._

_Hollow, Shinigami, or human?_ Byakuya asked, not stirring from the position he slept in. Sleep in the human world, for him, was more an advanced state of meditation, really.

_Human_ , the Zanpakutou replied smoothly. _Powerful, though. Like the Little One._

At that, Byakuya opened his eyes. _Like Uryuu?_ he repeated, slowly moving upright, doing his best not to disturb the sleeping teen. _Are you certain?_

_I am,_ came the response. _And he’s angry._

Sighing, Byakuya closed his eyes. He knew that Ishida was stressed out and exhausted. It was the only time that the teen would call on him, really, when he wasn’t already in the human world. Therefore, he was reluctant to wake his young lover. Still, he had heard tell of Ishida’s father, courtesy of Rukia and Renji.

Gently, he began to shake Ishida’s shoulder. “Uryuu,” he murmured. “Uryuu! You need to wake up!”

“Mmm?” Ishida breathed, turning slightly in his sleep. “Byakuya…wha’?”

“Your father,” Byakuya hissed. “He’s here!”

That brought Ishida awake with a start. He jolted upright, eyes wide. “Ryuuken?” he demanded. “ _Here_?!”

“So it would seem,” Byakuya said dryly. “Unless you want to explain this…”

“Like _hell_ ,” Ishida spat, sliding out of bed. “Hurry up, dammit. He’ll kill you!”

“He can try,” Byakuya replied, a smirk playing about the corners of his lips. Regardless of the…the _thing_ he had going with Ishida, he was still certain of the natural superiority of Shinigami compared to Quincy.

Ishida rolled his eyes. “He’ll destroy my apartment, then,” he argued. “And I can’t afford another right now.”

Laughing to himself, Byakuya dressed quickly. It had been years (hundreds of them) since he had had to flee from a lover’s room, dressing as quickly as he dared. Then again, with Ishida Uryuu, Byakuya found himself doing things he hadn’t done in those hundreds of years.

He kept an eye out for Ishida Ryuuken as he dressed. When he was fully clothed, he yanked the teen close and kissed him quickly. “Next week?” he asked quickly.

“Of course,” Ishida whispered, his eyes fluttering. “Now get out of here!”

Laughing under his breath, Byakuya did just that.

\----

The argument that started when Ryuuken knocked on the door turned out to be a total classic. They both ended up losing their cool, which resulted in screaming and yelling. Both were uncommon between the two Quincy, but terrible arguments were not.

It revolved around the fact that Ryuuken could tell his son had been consorting with a Shinigami, and continued along the lines that though he had allowed Uryuu’s broken promise to slide, he would not allow this…!

Uryuu yelled back, saying that it was his choice and his life and that if Ryuuken wanted to be involved in it, he needed to have been there from the start, and should have actually tried being a father, not an asshole.

From the distance, Byakuya watched.

By the end, he knew what he needed to do.

\----

When it came down to it, breaking Ishida Uryuu’s heart was surprisingly easy. All it took was Byakuya’s usual sense of impeccable timing and the (unwitting) assistance of one Abarai Renji. A couple of touches here and there, and the game was set.

No one else would recognize it for what it was, of that, Byakuya was certain. Renji took the touches as mere corrections to posture or stance, or as a way of quieting him discreetly. Only Byakuya saw how Ishida’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned, because only Byakuya knew that he touched Ishida in much the same way.

It was painful, yes. It was painful to change the caresses he had teased the young Quincy with into something that was a lie. It was painful to lie to the Quincy, to take the trust he had been given and to knowingly shatter it into a hundred thousand pieces.

But it was necessary.

And it was surprisingly easy.

\----

Ryuuken looked up when his son entered his office. He’d been watching Uryuu’s reiatsu since the boy had entered the hospital, and so he wasn’t surprised.

At least, not by Uryuu’s presence. The look on his son’s face still startled him, though he was careful not to let that show. He merely peered over the tops of his glasses at the boy, knowing that an explanation for his reddened eyes and agonized expression was soon to be forthcoming.

No explanation came, however.

Uryuu looked his father in the eye and said, “I want to resume my training.”

Ryuuken gave him a long, hard look. “You’ll never approach the Shinigami again?”

This time, there was no hesitation.

“I will have _nothing_ to do with Shinigami,” Uryuu spat. “I _hate_ Shinigami!”


End file.
